Mia Donovan was a love disaster.
Maybe disaster was too strong a word for it. Perhaps she was just a bad date magnet. She could only pray that tonight's date was better. But, if her recent dates were any indication, she was in for another doozy.
She twirled on the bar stool at Prohibition and scanned the crowd again. The speakeasy was one of the more popular bars in Soho, with everyone from financial types to hipsters, to fashion models crowding it, but as usual, when the happy hour crowd thinned out, it had a more intimate feel.
As she rifled through her bag looking for her phone, her eyes scanned the letterhead on the envelope from Watkins and Miller Law offices, and her stomach pitched. She'd been getting letters like this for more than six months. Her birth mother was looking for her, the same woman who had abandoned her to foster care. "Look all you want," she whispered. "You might be looking for me, but I am not looking for you."
When her fingers wrapped around her phone, she yanked it out and checked the time again. Seven forty—five. Shit. Her blind date was late. She'd kept an eye on her phone, and so far, no calls, no text. She'd been stood up. She clamped her jaw shut to rein in the fury. In today's day and age, there was really no reason for a no—call no—show.
This was the last time she did a favor for Larissa. Her best friend had been insisting for weeks that she had the perfect guy for Mia. Perfect her ass. Mia stowed her tablet and hopped off her stool. Leaning forward, she signaled the suspender—wearing bartender.
He came over with a big smile, no doubt ready to create some hideous—sounding concoction with egg whites and cayenne pepper that would turn out to taste like heaven. "What can I get you?"
"Actually, I'm headed out. Can you close my tab?"
He frowned. "What? If I had you waiting for me, I wouldn't stand you up." He inclined his head. "Listen, I'm new here, but some of the regulars sit toward the back, one of them could be your guy. Maybe he's been waiting too."
Mia shrugged. The last thing she wanted to do was go on a desperate hunt for someone. "We'll see."
"Or you can wait for me, and when my shift is over, we can go on a midnight date. See the city with new eyes." He winked as he handed her card back.
Mia raised a brow. "You know, you would have had a better shot if you used an original line."
Suspender boy turned a lobster shade of pink. "You read Matthew Rhodes?"
Mia ground her teeth together. Matthew Rhodes wrote the "Single Guy" column for the New City Post, and the damn thing was ubiquitous. Guys loved to quote from it like he was their dating God. And it certainly hadn't helped that he'd been on morning radio, giving guys his best pick up and "seal the deal" lines.
It didn't matter that they'd never met or spoken. Mia considered him her nemesis. He gave guys bad dating advice that she and fellow unsuspecting women were then subjected to. He was one of the inspirations for why she'd started her own blog, "Lonely Girl." Matthew had often taken pot shots at her blog, calling it naïve about modern dating. He was the one who was an arrogant bullshit artist who'd taken the connection and love out of dating, replacing them with advice on the easiest ways to score.
If that idiot could do it and be successful, then so could she. Problem was, he wasn't a complete idiot. Some of the advice he gave was sound. It was just often wrapped in nonsensical bullshit. There was something about his tongue—in—cheek snark and directness that appealed to her a little. He was brash and bold and sometimes dirty. A part of her wished she could be like that in her life.
He was also insightful and unflinchingly honest as he saw it. He started every bit of advice with the line: "Life's too short to fumble around in the dark unhappy." If words could have sex appeal, then he wrote them.
But if he could get on radio, then she could get her own show as well. She'd put together a proposal for the TVN Network's open pitch session based on her "Lonely Girl" blog. She just needed the final finishing touches. There were three rounds of submissions, and the winner got to produce their show. Her stomach fluttered every time she thought about that grand prize.
Ever since she'd been a kid, television had been her escape from real life, a place to run and hide and laugh or cry. Be someone else for a minute. She wanted this show more than she'd ever wanted anything. Maybe it would give someone like her an escape when they needed it.
She didn't wait for suspender boy to start another approach. "I'm just going to have another look in the back."
There were a few people seated in the booths. She immediately eliminated the pairs and groups and focused on the two men sitting alone. One guy was blond, so she discarded him as a potential. She'd been told Will had dark hair.
But the guy sitting alone didn't look like he needed any help getting dates. So this is what people meant when they said pure sex appeal. He had a laptop and a drink in front of him, but she could see that he dressed well. Preppy chic, with dark jeans, a button—down shirt, and a vest. His dark hair fell onto his brow, lightly curling. Stubble dusted his strong, square jaw. His high cheekbones and full lips completed the picture. She just wished she could see his eyes. If this was her date, she owed Larissa a case of her favorite liquor.
She swallowed hard and marched up to the table, nervously tugging at the hem of her fitted white blouse. When she'd gotten ready for her date, she'd thrown on standard drinks date attire. Provocative, but not revealing. She'd worn a red pinstriped skirt that flared out a little and stopped just above the knee, showcasing her legs.
When she stopped at his booth, his gaze slid up her body as if he were cataloging every inch of her. Tilting her chin up, she licked her lips nervously. "Uh, I'm Mia. Please tell me you're my date because I've been waiting at the bar for like twenty minutes, and the bartender is starting to think I'm stalking him."
His laugh was low, like a rumble actually. "Lucky guy." His smile was show—stopping, and she got a clear look at his deep—set jade green eyes. "Suddenly my night is looking up. I can be your date."
Disappointment bloomed. She scrunched her nose and sighed. "I'm guessing you're not Will?" Of course the hottest guy in the place by miles would not be her blind date.
"Well, I could pretend. Tell me, do you like this Will character?"
Her lips tipped up at the corners. "At the moment, not so much. I think he stood me up."
He leaned forward, and Mia caught a whiff of his cologne. Woodsy, but subtle. He smelled divine, and it made her want to nuzzle close.
"In that case, no Will here, but will I do? One man's folly is another man's fortune."
His voice, like warm chocolate drizzled over something sinful, warmed Mia's skin from the inside and added a chaser of a shiver down her spine.
The way he looked at her, like he had every intention of spending hours getting to know her body, made her blush. She had definitely been stood up. Damn it.
The pitying look on Mr. Sexy's face made her squirm. Being the object of scrutiny and pity wasn't her thing. If she'd been paying attention, she would have known that he clearly wasn't Will. First, guys this good—looking didn't need blind dates. Second, too charming. Third, she'd spoken to Will on the phone once to set up the date, and he'd been a little awkward. There was nothing awkward about Romeo here.
Her body wanted to take him up on his offer. But her brain knew better. This kind of guy didn't date girls like her. They liked their party—girl types. Fun and carefree. Carefree, Mia was not.
She let her gaze slide past his face, over his broad shoulders, and had to work to bite back the drool. "Sorry to bother you."
His gaze didn't waver once. "You're not. In fact, you made my whole night."
Charm for days. But for some reason, instead of retreating behind her default shell of protection, she grinned. Her body, recognizing a very hot potential bed partner, went on autopilot. She cocked her head. "Do those lines usually work for you?"
A grin flashed. "Not always, but it's worth a shot. How about I say my night is definitely looking up. Why don't you at least have a seat? I don't bite." Despite his obvious confidence, there was something sweet about him.
A laugh bubbled out of her mouth before she could think to filter it. "Somehow, I don't believe you." Okay, enough fun playing with the Faberge Egg in the store you can't afford. Time to go. "I think I'm going to pass."
"If I can guess your favorite book, will you stay?"
This ought to be good. "Okay, if you can guess, I'll stay for a little bit." She did her best not to fidget as he assessed her, but it was difficult under the intensity of his gaze.
"Let me guess, Pride and Prejudice." He pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm Ryan by the way."
She relaxed. This was fun. He was fun. Keep it to fun, and you won't get hurt. "Ooh, tough break. While I have been known to enjoy some Mr. Darcy, Firth, not MacFayden. And while I love Elizabeth and think she was the original feminist icon, my favorite book is Kaffir Boy by Mark Matherbane."
He frowned. "I was so sure I had that right. I guess I had you pegged wrong. I don't think I know that book."
"You probably wouldn't. He's not a major bestseller or anything. He's a South African author born during Apartheid." The author's struggle to fit into a world where he didn't belong spoke volumes to her. She'd read the tattered copy she'd found at the second hand shop more than a dozen times.
"And here I thought I could impress you with a first edition Pride and Prejudice I acquired years ago."
Mia blinked. "You're kidding me."
He cocked his head, winking at her as he grinned. "I thought it wasn't your favorite?"
"Oh, come on. It might not be my favorite, but I love books, and any lover of books would give anything to lay their eyes on a first edition of that one." She laughed.
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and the amiable stranger morphed into Mr. Sexy as Hell again. He leaned back in his booth. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you'd give?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, Ryan?" Was this her? Bantering with a total stranger. She wasn't shy exactly, just someone who'd learned early to play things close to the vest. No show of feelings meant someone couldn't use them against her or hurt her.
"I didn't guess your favorite book; do I guess that you'll be walking out of my life?"
She didn't want to go home. After all, only her DVR waited for her. "I'll give you one more chance for redemption. Because, well, nobody's perfect."
His grin flashed again. "Please, please, please, tell me you're making a Some Like it Hot reference. If you are, I could marry you."
He knew Some Like it Hot? Who was this guy? "You like movies, huh? Let's see how you are with music. Pop quiz, hotshot, why don't you tell me your favorite song right now and why?"
"Oh, the lady drives a hard bargain. First, the she drops a Speed reference, then she asks something so personal. Fair enough. Right now it's Gill Scott's "Me and the Devil". Something about it is just a little dirty and soulful, and I can't get it out of my head. Which is interesting because I seem to hate everything else he sings. But then, I prefer blues to jazz. And I know they're essentially cousins, but I just can't hang with jazz."
She blinked in surprise. "Okay. I guess I expected something else."
"Imagine Dragons or One Republic? Solid bands, but I like the unexpected."
The fluttering low in her belly told her she was in trouble. But it was her brain perking up that told her she was a goner. She slid into the booth next to him. "You're right. I made an assumption. And we all know when you make an assumption, you make an ass out of you—"
He didn't even let her finish, as they excitedly chanted in unison "—and umption."
He laughed. "What? You thought you were going to get me with a Samuel L. quote? Long Kiss Goodnight is a classic movie. Okay, now that I pass muster on movies and music. Time to get personal. Text or talk."
She didn't even need to think about it. "For flirting, text. For emotional connection, talk. I know how guys are with the phone, but I prefer it. Besides, phone sex is so much hotter than sexting. A picture might speak a thousand words, but it's all about the tease. It's hotter."
"Will you marry me?"
Mia laughed. "You'll have to work a lot harder than that. It's like sending an email to say thank you. Sure, it's convenient, but a letter is so much more personal. When I'm pitching a show, I always send a personal letter."
"How can you talk about phone sex and be so old fashioned?"
It was too easy to talk to him, to flirt. Mia felt like someone else. "I'm a woman. It's all part of the mystery."
And they went back and forth like that for an hour. There, in the dim light of the secluded bar, she chatted with a stranger about what she liked to read and her favorite food and favorite indulgences as if she'd known him forever. Maybe this was one of those epic nights that movies were based on. He was fun and relaxed. He didn't seem to take himself too seriously. She could use some of that in her life.
But it wasn't until he asked her for her favorite drink that things got interesting. "It's a toss—up between a Caiprihna and a mojito. All depends on who's making it."
His eyes lit up. "Come with me." He stood.
"What? Where are we going?"
He laughed. "It's called going on an adventure. Surely you've been on one before?"
"Yes. Just not with total strangers."
"Relax. We'll catch a cab. And, I'm taking you somewhere very public. It just happens to be one of my favorite places in the city. Are you game?"
That was the real question. She usually played it safe. But the tiny voice in her head kept telling her to live a little. Have some fun. For one night, she could let go, right? "Okay, but I warn you, if you plan on trying to chop me up into little pieces, I'm going to make it very difficult for you."
He chuckled. "Noted. Now are you up for an adventure, or aren't you?"
Mia watched him warily when he held out a fist to her.
"Will you hold this for a second?"
She automatically reached her hand out, and he opened his hand to take hers. "Now we're dating and I'm not a stranger."
Despite herself, Mia laughed but clasped his hand tightly. "Lead the way."
